The gentle morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the ger fabric, warmly caressing Entya's cheek. She stretched slowly, feeling the fever that had tormented her last night completely gone, replaced by a feeling of freshness flowing through every inch of her body.

The storm had passed, leaving only the scent of wet soil and grass. In the corner of the gers, Yul's blanket was already neatly folded. Of course, the young man must have been busy outside since dawn, never missing a chance to help.

With a surge of renewed spirit, Entya put on her turquoise deel, a color that reflected the vibrant gleam of her larimar eyes, and stepped out.

Salkha Village was bustling, moving in an organized harmony. Several main gers looked crooked, demanding strong hands for repair. The livestock fences were down in places, yet everyone was moving, helping each other, united in a collective effort. There was a strong sense of communal strength in the air, a beauty Entya always cherished about her people.

Entya approached a middle-aged man who was trying to straighten a clothes drying rack.

"Uncle, let me help," she offered with a smile.

The man turned, his smile friendly yet firm. "No need, Entya. You just recovered. Get some rest. We can handle it."

Entya didn't give up. She approached a group of women who were sorting out wet belongings. "Auntie, can I help with anything?"

One of them gently stroked her head. "Good girl. Just take care of yourself so you don't get sick again. That's helpful enough."

Rejection again. The smile on Entya's face began to feel stiff. She hated her body for making her look fragile in everyone's eyes. She hated only being able to watch.

"Precisely because you can't sit still, I have a job for you."

The cheerful voice made Entya turn. Gerel approached her, carrying two empty baskets made from woven dried grass. Her neatly braided dark brown hair swayed with her steps.

"Auntie Beihe definitely needs help tidying up the herbs and food supplies that might be damp from the storm. You're the expert, right?"

Entya's eyes lit up, her larimar gleam coming back to life. "Of course!"

The two of them walked toward the storage ger. Along the way, they saw Yul and Jochi lifting a heavy wooden pole to repair one of the main gers. Sweat glistened on their temples, but both looked spirited, their muscles straining under the dark deel they wore. Yul, with his upright posture, looked very focused, while Jochi cracked a joke.

"Look who it is! Are you here to admire our muscles, Entya?" Jochi called out with a wide grin, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Entya chuckled, her laugh light and crisp like the rustling of wind in the steppes. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't knock the ger down completely," she retorted, her cheeks slightly flushed.

Yul didn't say much, only offering a brief smile toward Entya, a small smile that felt warm, more than just a casual greeting, before refocusing on his task. However, Entya noticed something else. A group of younger village girls, helping to collect firewood, were whispering while occasionally glancing at Yul. Their gazes were filled with undisguised admiration.

Jochi, following their line of sight, chuckled. "See that, Yul. Even a storm can't fade your charm. You should start getting used to being the center of attention," he teased, nudging Yul's arm.

Yul merely snorted softly, completely unfazed, and continued working. His calm demeanor only made his tall, agile, and dependable figure stand out further in the girls' eyes.

It wasn't just the girls; some elders also looked at him with a complex expression—a mix of deep appreciation and a touch of sadness. Entya knew what they were thinking.

Ah, if only Yul were not an outsider, we would surely offer our daughters to him.

Yul was indeed not part of the pure Salkha bloodline. Ten years ago, he was found by Bataar, the head warrior of Salkha village, lying unconscious in the middle of the steppe, an orphan from an unknown origin.

Bataar, though stern, had raised him with affection, but his status as an "outsider" remained etched in the minds of the elders. A painful thought, because Yul, despite being a part of them, was always outside the traditional Salkha marriage circle.

Yul himself never seemed bothered by this fact. For him, the life he had now—working hard, and being among people he considered family—was more than enough. He didn't seek further recognition, only to live up to his own measure.

Entya could only manage bitter smile, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Amidst Jochi's laughter and the village's bustle, she felt her world and Yul's world separated by an invisible chasm. The same chasm that made her feel helpless.

Inside the storage ger, the sharp aroma of herbs mixed with the smell of dried grain. Entya and Gerel began sorting, separating good herbs from those that were damp. Entya's hand paused when it touched a dried bundle of wildflowers, their colors still vibrant, as if freshly picked. The same flowers that adorned Gerel's wedding day just weeks ago.

Memories of that day came back clearly: Gerel so beautiful in her red deel, Jochi's booming laughter, and the happiness that surrounded them. Entya fiddled with the petals between her fingers.

"Gerel," she called softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Gerel turned from her work, a gentle smile on her lips. "Yes?"

Entya hesitated for a moment, then looked at her friend with an irrepressible curiosity. "How... how does it feel to be a bride?"

The question made Gerel's smile widen, her eyes gazing distantly as if returning to her special day. Gerel touched the simple ring on her finger.

"It feels... like a dream," she answered tenderly, her voice mesmerizing.

"Your heart beats so fast, you're afraid you'll trip over the white fur rug. But when you see him waiting for you, all the fear vanishes. It feels warm. It feels like you've finally found your place in the world, and you know... you'll never be alone again."

Entya listened to every word, her heart feeling a little tight. She tried to imagine herself in Gerel's place, wearing beautiful clothes, walking toward a certain future, with Yul waiting for her. But the image felt awkward, like a small child trying on adult shoes. Her small body, her childlike face... how could it be?

Noticing the shift in her friend's expression, Gerel leaned closer.

"Hey," she said gently, her voice full of understanding, as if reading Entya's mind.

"Love is strange sometimes, Entya. Often, the person who deserves it most is the one who doubts themselves the most. And sometimes... the young man closest to us is the one who is most blind."

Entya forced a slight smile. "I was just curious," she replied, avoiding Gerel's gaze, not wanting to let her heartache show. She carefully placed the dried flowers back into the basket. "Come on, let's finish this before Auntie Beihe arrives."

They returned to work in silence, but the quiet felt different now. The image of Gerel as a bride lingered in Entya's mind. The future she longed for, a future that felt close yet far out of reach. Quietly, Gerel slid her basket a little closer, their shoulders touching, a small gesture that said, 'I'm here for you.'

With the collective effort of the Salkha villagers, the post-storm repairs were mostly finished before sunset. The tilted ger poles were stabilized, and the livestock fence stood upright. The Salkha residents began to disperse, taking home the fatigue from the shared labor that had paid off handsomely.

Night fell. The main ger of the elders, located in the heart of the village, remained brightly lit. Its door curtain was partially open, carrying whispers from within, the low voices of old men deliberating.

Yul, who should have long been resting after a long day of repairs, found himself standing in the shadows of an empty ger nearby. His sharp eyes pierced the darkness, his ears catching the low murmurs coming from inside.

He didn't intend to eavesdrop, but a strange gravity pulled him to stay, preventing his return to his own ger. He saw the silhouettes of Elder Eldeghai, Entya's grandfather, and several other elders, were sitting cross-legged around the hearth. The cold air stung his skin, but Yul did not budge. A few fragments of sentences began to sound clear, carried by the night wind:

"...her condition..."

"...she's already eighteen..."

"...Eldeghai, how long will you hold back?"

"...no one will..."

Then, Elder Eldeghai's voice, hoarse yet firm, cut through all the whispers. "I will not discuss betrothal or marriage for Entya. Not yet." The words, spoken with full authority, were like a hammer hitting the table.

Yul felt a sudden wave of relief, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He stood there for a long time, his eyes full of swirling emotions. He let his thoughts settle until the light in the elders' ger finally went out, leaving behind the darkness and the cold of the night. Yul turned, his steps heavy as he walked back to his ger. The silence around him now felt denser, as if absorbing all his hopes and fears.